


That's Not a Thing

by dove_called_jay



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Consensual Sex, F/M, Good Peter, M/M, McCall Pack, Multi, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Tom, The Hale Pack - Freeform, True Mates, because KouriArashi says so, the McCalls are the Delgados
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dove_called_jay/pseuds/dove_called_jay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer before his senior year of college and Stiles was hoping that he wouldn't have to erase his "Beacon Hills has had X Days Without Supernatural Bullshit" sign. But of course some old pack who used hold the territory is back and they want to negotiate their resettlement. </p>
<p>It should just be annoying, but then the Alpha's brother decides that they're mates or something, and is really confused when Stiles insists that 1) he's straight and 2) THAT'S NOT A THING!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's Not a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> The relationship between Stiles and Derek starts out a little coercive, but there will be no non-consensual sex in this fic.
> 
> After the fire, Laura and Derek took Peter and Cora to New York. Peter recovered better closer to pack and never went crazy. Scott was bitten by a rogue alpha who killed random people, not conspirators, and the Argents came to town to deal with him. 
> 
> Most things played out as they did in canon, just without any Hales around.

Stiles probably should have been more nervous, but his overriding emotion was annoyance. The last thing he’d expected to have to deal with the summer before his last year of college was more werewolf bullshit. 

Things had been quiet in Beacon Hills since about halfway through senior year. They had a large, stable pack these days, which required much less intervention on the parts of law enforcement or professionals in the field of emergency medicine. They’d all been nervous about leaving for college and the older cohort had done several semesters at BHCC while they waited for “the kids” (as Stiles still thought of them) to catch up, but then they’d all gone off together. Many promises had been made about keeping each other in the loop, and yeah, the others only went as far as the Bay Area, but come on!

Stiles wasn’t even unpacked before Scott had popped in through his window with a “we need to talk.” It was every bit as ominous as when Josie had said it to him right before midterms. Of course, Scott wasn’t ending a three-year relationship. 

The upshot was that everyone in the pack had known about this Hale bullshit for weeks before Stiles had gotten home, but they hadn’t wanted to tell him because _Josie_ , on top of finals. And yeah, he was the only pack member who was going to college out of state, but there was such a thing as the internet. Everyone else had a chance to study up on all this arcane werewolf protocol and learn things about their - were they adversaries? Stiles didn’t even know - before the meeting. Whereas Stiles was just sitting there, behind Scott, basically with his dick in his hand, trying to keep quiet so he didn’t fuck anything up and get everyone killed. 

Lydia had briefed him as best she could in the car on the way over. The Hales, apparently, used to live in Beacon Hills, until the Argents (everyone paused awkwardly) had burned down the house with most of the family inside. 

“This all happened when we were in elementary school.” Lydia said.

“Yeah, I guess I kind of remember it. A big house on the edge of town, right?” Stiles’s mom had been dying at roughly the same time, so he hadn’t paid much attention to anything through most of fourth grade.

“Yes. Eleven people died, leaving 20-year old Laura as the new alpha. She and her brother weren’t in the house at the time. Their Uncle Peter was able to get out through some tunnels under the house. He got the youngest, Cora, out too, but he was terribly injured. After Laura got custody settled, she took Peter and the kids to New York and they’ve been there ever since.”

“Okay, simple enough.” He flicked through the 48 page dossier she’d handed him. “Don’t tell anyone to die in a fire. Or mention hunters.”

“Stiles.” Scott sounded pained.

“Dude, you know I need way more notice than this if I’ve got to be polite.”

“Stiles will be fine.” Kira reached over and put an hand on Scott’s arm. She twisted around in her seat. “You won’t really have to do anything anyway. Lydia and Scott are supposed to do all the talking.”

“It shouldn’t be a big deal.” Lydia assured him. She had her hair braided up in a crown with little tendrils coming down. Josie never did anything that complicated. She was a computer science major who mostly piled her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun. 

“Why are they here, anyway. I mean it’s been, what? Thirteen years or something.”

“They want to move back.” Scott piped up from the front seat. “They didn’t realize there’s another pack here now, not until I ran into one of them at the grocery store. They haven’t moved yet or anything, it was a scouting expedition.”

“And if it goes well we’ll have . . .” Stiles flipped back to the précis in the front of the dossier, “. . . eight more wolves in town. Wait, are they all wolves?”

“Yeah, the four Hales, and then four they turned after moving to New York. But the whole pack wants to come back here.” Kira smiled at him from the front seat. “I met two of the guys at the park. They seemed pretty nice.” 

“Okay, well, I think I’ll just not talk.” 

Scott sighed with relief. 

\-----

Laura had signed up for the large conference room on the second floor of the small Beacon Hills Public Library. This was hilarious to Stiles, as the last time he was there he’d been doing study groups for AP tests. Jordan, Liam, Mason, and Hayden were all waiting next to the check out counter on the first floor. Stiles gave some quick bro-hugs, picked Hayden up and spun her around, and they headed up the stairs. 

The Hales were already inside the conference room. There was a woman of about thirty sitting at one of the long tables with a man slightly younger than she was to her right and a man ten or so years older to her left. Two girls and three boys were propping up the bookshelves covered with various editions of the _Encyclopedia Britannica_ behind them. 

Scott bustled over and shook hands with the woman right away. Lydia and Kira advanced to flank him, but Stiles and the others all hung back. Each alpha introduced their pack and then everybody grabbed chairs and sat down to wait while the six most important people hashed out their . . . whatever the fuck this was. Parlay or something. 

Stiles found himself sort of in the middle of their group, next to Jordan, who kept shooting him glares as Stiles craned his neck a little to try to get a look at some of the Hale pack people who were sitting near the wall. 

There was a tall guy, with kind of a grimace, whose name Stiles didn’t remember, leaning his head against the shoulder of the big black guy - Vernon. There was a knockout blonde sitting on Vernon’s lap, Stiles thought her name was Erica. The other guy had pulled a chair over so he could prop his feet up on it and was reclining with his hands behind his head. He looked sort of lazy and contented, but Stiles could see him watching the Delgados from under his lowered lashes. 

Much to his surprise, he’d actually recognized Cora Hale when Laura’d waved a hand in her direction. They’d never been in class together in elementary school before she’d moved away, but one day on the playground they’d gotten in a fight about something - Stiles couldn’t remember what anymore - and she’d pulled him off the swings, sat on his chest, and held him down while she’d stuffed dirt into his mouth. He thought it had been in second grade, because Mrs. MacAllister had been the one who’d called his dad. He felt quite a bit better about the memory, in retrospect. It wasn’t nearly as humiliating now that he knew she’d had the 8-year old equivalent of werewolf super strength.

Stiles knew he would feel bad about it later, but he tuned out a little bit. He’d had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the airport, flown across the country, been driven from San Francisco to Beacon Hills, found out that some other werewolf pack was back in town, and was now attempting to play nice in a room that smelled like glue. 

He yawned. Hayden leaned forward and pinched him.

He tuned back in when Lydia spread a map on the table and she and Laura broke out some markers. They started talking boundaries and circling places where pack members lived. At least the whole thing wasn’t going to be as draconian as Stiles had feared. He’d thought Scott and Imaginary Laura would basically spray paint a line down the center of town and agree to stay on their sides. 

Derek - was that the brother or was the brother named Peter? - anyway Probably Derek was looking at him. Stiles reached up and rubbed his face. Surely Lydia would have told him if he’d had something on it. Actually, Probably Peter was looking at the back row of the Delgado pack, too. 

“I beg your pardon,” Probably Peter interrupted. “You aren’t all wolves.”

Scott startled a little, but nodded. “That’s right.”

Laura sniffed the air - actually sniffed! “I’m mostly smelling my own pack right now so I didn’t even notice. What are you all then, if you’re not all wolves?”

Lydia bared her teeth. “We’re three wolves, two humans, a banshee, a kitsune, and a Hell Hound.”

Probably Peter had a strange look on his face. “Two death omens in the same pack?”

“We prefer to think of ourselves as harbingers.” She dimpled sweetly at him.

“Are you the Hell Hound or the banshee?” asked the lazy-looking boy. 

“What do you think?” she snapped back. 

Scott put his hand on hers under the table. “Let’s get back to talking about full moon running.”

And things got boring again.

\-----

It was about another twenty minutes before Scott and Laura started packing up. Stiles sighed in relief as everyone stood and prepared to make their way from the room. He stretched and scratched his belly. Stiles was going to make Scott stop at the diner on the way home so he could get some food, and then he was going to sleep for twenty hours. 

Hayden and Liam had their arms around each other’s waists and were almost at the door, with Stiles and Jordan following them, when someone grabbed his forearm from behind. 

“Gah!” Stiles attempted to flail away, but the fingers were like a vise around his wrist. He spun and saw that he was caught in the grip of Probably Derek. “What the hell, dude?”

He saw Scott over Probably Derek’s shoulder and heard him growl, “Is there a problem?” But Probably Derek reeled him in and, using his other hand to cup the side of Stiles’s neck, brought his nose to just below Stiles’s ear on the other side, where he inhaled, deeply. Stiles was embarrassed to find that he was frozen, in the manner of a rabbit who’d accidentally met a snake.

“Derek,” said Definitely Peter.“What the hell are you doing?”

Definitely Derek suddenly dropped him like a hot potato and took a step back. Stiles stumbled back as well, and may indeed have gone down if he hadn’t fetched up against Jordan. 

Laura and Cora were by Derek’s sides in a moment and everyone was crowding around looking at the frozen tableau. Stiles looked at Derek, too.

“You’re my mate.” Derek looked thunderstruck and amazed.

“He’s your what now?” Kira asked, looking between Derek and Scott. 

“You’re my mate.” Derek said again to Stiles. Laura made an excited noise and embraced her brother, and the other girl, Erica, let out a squeal and clapped her hands. Derek was still standing there, apparently a pillar of salt. 

“Uh, that’s not a thing, dude.” Stiles finally said. 

“What are you talking about?” Laura turned and wrinkled her brow at him, and Stiles noticed her _presence_ for the first time. Laura was a little scary for someone that short.

“Mates. It’s not a thing.” Stiles had looked it up back in high school when Scott and Allison were playing out their doomed romance. He’d never mentioned it to anyone else, but he had wanted to know if the reason Scott was so irrational about her had something to do with werewolf mysticism. 

“Of course it is.” Peter was the one frowning with his whole face now. 

“It’s incredibly rare,” Laura explained. “And I think most people think it’s just a born wolf thing. But it’s real.” She switched her focus to Derek. “Are you sure, Der?”

“Yes.” Derek was still just standing there staring at him. 

Erica laughed. “You’ll have to forgive Derek. He’s always a little speechless. What’s your name again, cutie?”

There was silence until Hayden poked him in the back. “Stiles!” he half shouted. “And, uh, that’s great that you think so, but I’m straight so unless this is like a brotherly-love situation, I’m gonna have to decline.” He was slowly backing towards the door, pleased when he picked up the feeling of Jordan at his elbow again. 

Lydia, god bless her, finally took over. “Let’s table this discussion for next time, shall we? I’m sure we’d all like to do some research, and your pack must be terribly busy with the move and everything. We’ve already officially concluded business today, so we should revisit this when next we meet.”

Laura shot a look at Derek, but he didn’t say anything, so she nodded and turned to Scott to bid him farewell. The Delgados all booked it out of there, Stiles as near to the front of the pack as he thought he could be without the appearance of fleeing.


	2. Everyone Has an Opinion

No one said anything else until they were back at Scott’s house, diner and sleep temporarily forgotten. They all gathered in the living room and Lydia summed up the meeting. Basically, this time had just been so they could all get a look at each other, so they knew who not to freak about about running into when they were getting coffee. 

They had also talked a little about sharing the preserve on full moon runs, which wasn’t as big a deal for the Delgados as they only had the three wolves. Honestly, most full moons they had _Street Fighter_ tournaments. 

Laura had also said that Derek and the bitten wolves were going to move back soon to supervise the rebuilding of the Hale House. Derek was a teacher, so he was done for the summer, and he’d be taking the chemistry job at BHHS starting in the fall. 

Laura and Peter worked for a law firm in New York and they’d convinced them to open a branch in Beacon Hills, so they were coming partway through the summer to get things ready, but had a few details to sort out before they could move for good. 

Silence fell over the pack, and Stiles saw that the three kids were shooting little glances at him. As usual, it was Liam who brought it up first. 

“So. What’s all this business about mates?”

Stiles shrugged helplessly. “I’ve looked it up before. I mean, it was a couple of years ago now, but everything I saw said that it was like, a werewolf fairy tale.” 

“They clearly don’t think so.” Lydia frowned, deeply. “I’ll call Alan tomorrow, I suppose.” 

“But, what can they do?” This was Hayden, and she actually looked a little worried. Over the years she and Stiles had bonded over a mutual love of tormenting Liam, and a mutual worry over family members who worked in law enforcement. He thought of her as his kid sister. 

Lydia, Stiles was distressed to see, actually looked a little concerned as well. “The problem is that we’re in somewhat of a tenuous position here.” 

“What do you mean by tenuous?” Stiles asked.

“I did all this research when we first found out about the Hales coming back. It’s in Appendix B of your information packet. Basically, what it boils down to is that Beacon Hills is theirs by right and magic. They’re descended from the original indigenous people who lived here. The land was tied to their bloodline hundreds of years ago.” 

“What does that mean, practically speaking?” Mason asked. 

She sighed. “We’d have a case for keeping them out if they were anybody else. They left thirteen years ago, leaving the territory and the Nemeton undefended. That would normally be a big deal, but thirteen years doesn’t mean much when compared with how long they held the territory over all. Them being back here means that things could start to heal in a real way, not the stop gap way that we do, where Jordan keeps the lid on while we’re all away at school. They’re meant to be here, on a mystical level. If Laura hadn’t bitten teenagers who couldn’t leave their parents and then had to get through school, I bet the Hales would have been back sooner.”

“So how is this related to me?” Stiles asked. 

This time it was Scott who sighed. “It means it’ll be really hard to say no to anything they ask for. They’re being really courteous by coming in here and asking for meetings and making plans. If Laura wanted to be a dick she could just try to run us off.” 

“We’re not actually pushovers,” Jordan protested. “I think we’ve proved just how deadly some of us can be.”

“But that’s the problem.” Scott looked at Stiles with an unreadable expression. “None of them deserve to die. Yet. So far as we know.”

“Well, I don’t want to be married off to a male werewolf.” Stiles protested. 

“And you won’t be.” Lydia finished. “Stiles, you know that none of us would let that happen.” 

“Are you sure you’re not like, the least, tiniest bit gay?” Mason asked, looking embarrassed. “I mean, if you were even just a little bi . . .” 

Liam put a hand on his head an pushed him over on the couch. “Some people aren’t gay, man. Get over it!”

Mason laughed and pushed back. “It could be worse, is all I’m saying. That guy was crazy hot!”

“I mean, I’ve never had a crush on a guy or anything. Or looked at gay porn or whatever.” Stiles thought about walking into the meeting and seeing Derek for the first time. “There wasn’t a spark or a feeling or anything. He just seemed like a guy.”

“Try not to worry about it too much, okay?” Lydia leaned over and grabbed his hand. “Let me do a little research first; maybe this thing is as much a fairy tale as you thought. Maybe he just ate something weird for lunch or something.” 

“More about me of gravy than the grave?” Stiles rolled his eyes and gave her a sort of half-smile.

“I think that was a different situation.” She smiled at him, the genuinely amused Lydia-smile he’d have done anything to achieve in high school. 

“They’re all leaving the day after tomorrow, anyway.” Scott added. “Then Derek and some of the others are driving back. We won’t have to deal with them for at least another week.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I want some food and a long sleep. Remember I’m on Eastern Time still, and I got up at one o’clock in the morning California Time.”

“Yes, we’re all very impressed.” Scott stood and hauled him out of the couch, then the pack all headed back out to the diner.

\-----

Stiles didn’t see his father again until the next morning. Tom had picked him up at the airport, of course, but then had to go back to work, so he’d missed all the news from the pack meeting. Stiles made them omelets and they sat around the table together. 

“So, how are you?” Oh, good, this part of the conversation. They’d only talked in general terms in the car, but Stiles knew his dad would ask sooner or later. 

“I’m okay. It’s weird. Living without her, I mean.”

“Josie was a nice girl, but you are an amazing man. You will find another girl, you know that right?”

God, Stiles didn’t want to talk about this right now. “Well, as it happens, one of the wolves at the Great Inter-Pack Meeting last night decided that we are mates, so that’s all taken care of.”

“What?” Tom laughed. 

“Yeah, the new alpha’s brother says that we’re mates.” 

“The brother?” Tom raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, he must’ve been high or something. Mates aren’t a real thing, it’s like, werewolf Sleeping Beauty.”

Tom grunted. “This isn’t going to be an issue or anything, is it? I mean, the pack is going to take care of things, right?”

“Yeah.” Stiles waved his hand carelessly. “It’s not a thing.”

\-----

Stiles went in to work with his father that morning. Every summer since high school graduation he’d been working at the police station as the night 911 dispatcher. Clovis, who usually did the night shift, was in her mid-70s and was technically retired; she just worked night shift whenever Stiles wasn’t around. She’d updated some of the software since the last time he’d been there so he was going to take a day shift with her in the room before he started the unpleasant process of switching his body clock to nights.

Clovis was hilarious. She took her RV out on the road in the summers and hit all the big western parks, where she trawled the campgrounds for geriatric lovers. She’d taught him how to swear when he was a little kid, and if anyone brought Tom baked goods at work, Clovis called Stiles so he could come confiscate them, though she was susceptible to bribes and once Tom had figured that out she’d become much less reliable. 

She walked Stiles through the new system, then broke out some nail polish and an issue of Cosmo. Stiles answered 911 calls and worked dispatch normally, and they chatted a little whenever the phones were free. 

Clovis shared Tom’s opinion that Stiles would find someone new, though she was a little less generous towards Josie. They hadn’t met, so Clovis didn’t really get how wonderful Josie was, but Stiles didn’t really want to talk about it, so he didn’t press the issue. 

After he’d gotten the hang of things Clovis chased him out so he could enjoy a few days before work started. He hit the grocery store and started planning dinner in his head on the way home, but when he pulled up to his house there was a nondescript rental car parked next to the mailbox and a big guy in a leather jacket sitting on the steps of the front porch. 

Stiles pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the jeep. “I thought the point of marking down where we all lived was so we could avoid each other.”

Derek stood. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just going back to New York tomorrow morning and won’t see you for a week. It felt weird, just leaving. After yesterday.” 

“Okay,” Stiles said, not approaching the porch and leaning casually against the jeep. He had an air horn on his key ring and he flipped the keys around his finger. “So what do you want out of this interaction?”

“I . . .” Derek looked intensely frustrated, but he’d looked like that throughout pretty much the whole meeting the day before, so Stiles didn’t know what to do with it. “Will you just . . ?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and flipped his keys again.

“Could you stop being such a dick about this?” Derek exploded in a controlled way. “This is a huge deal for us -” he dropped his voice so he wasn’t shouting any more. “Meeting our mate. I mean, I never thought I’d get to have this, it’s really rare and special, and you’re just dismissing it!”

“Look man, I appreciate that it’s your culture and everything, but I am not your mate, okay? There’s no such things as mates. It’s like, goblins, or unicorns.”

“The only wolves you know are turned wolves! Maybe turned wolves can’t have mates, I don’t know. It’s incredibly rare, but born wolves can have mates. And I do.” 

“Well I’m a human, dude. A one hundred percent human, with no special ad-ons or extra features. I’m also straight and was recently dumped by the woman I thought was the love of my life, so maybe . . . I don’t know. Readjust your expectations. Or something.”

Just then another car pulled up and Laura and Vernon got out. “Derek!” She said sharply, crossing to her brother. “Get in the car!” She grabbed his elbow and started pulling him to the curb. Vernon had been driving and he stood in the open driver’s side door, leaning on the roof with an inscrutable look on his face. 

“Laura!” He wrenched his elbow from her grip, but started walking towards the car, after shooting Stiles a murderous glance. 

Laura let him go and came over to stand about ten feet away from Stiles. “I’m sorry about that. He’s not supposed to talk to you without my permission and Scott’s okay.”

“My dad is the Sheriff of this county. It is not a good idea to show up at this house uninvited, regardless of the pack politics situation.”

Laura’s jaw clenched. “He’ll go through the proper channels in the future.” 

“We haven’t had problems with strange werewolves showing up unannounced for a couple of years now. We didn’t enjoy it then and we won’t now.”

“I understand, believe me. I’m sure you’ll want to brief your alpha, so we’re going to go. We need to be at SFO by eight tomorrow, so we’ll all be out of here early in the morning.” 

“Thanks.” Stiles said, grudgingly. 

Laura went over to Derek, who had been glaring at them both from next to the cars. She made him give up the keys to the rental he’d brought over, hustled him into the car with Vernon, and got in the other car herself. 

Stiles gathered up the groceries and went inside to make some turkey chili. 

\-----

He had filled Scott in, though he was a little grumpy about it because it was Laura’s suggestion and he was in the mood to be perverse. The next morning he and Lydia joined Scott at work, the two of them hiked up on some cabinets out of the way while Deaton and Scott attempted to sort and process about 25 cats that had been seized from a cat-hoarding situation. 

Deaton was, of course, genuinely pleased that the Hales were back in town, though the only people he’d seen of the Hale Pack at that point were Laura and Peter. He’d been Emissary to Talia Hale and when the survivors of the fire had fled, he’d stayed behind to do what he could to protect the Nemeton.

Lydia had called him the day before, so Stiles was treated to an explanation of werewolf mating, while Deaton wrangled kittens and Scott helped de-worm them. 

“Basically, it’s never been confirmed. How would you confirm it? Think of it like the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Great. I’m the Loch Ness Monster.” Stiles muttered. Scott handed him a kitten.

“You’re not Nessie, the situation is.” Deaton corrected. “Most of the born wolves I’ve met believe in mates at least a little. Everyone knows someone whose great aunt and uncle were mates, but most people don’t know any in person. Contrary to the monster, I’d say most wolves believe in their existence, with a very few who doubt.”

The kitten bit Stiles and he passed it to Lydia, who glared at it and handled it like an unexploded bomb. 

“So what do they mean when they say ‘mate’ then? I mean, I didn’t feel anything but he started staring at me the minute I walked in.”

“Most of the stories are consistent; they saw each other and just knew they’d be together forever. There are usually details about how the two people are surprisingly complimentary for each other in some unexpected way. Some stories are embellished with theories that the moon gave werewolves mates as compensation for their lives of secrecy, though that’s just an extra flourish. It’s a very serious thing in werewolf culture though.”

“So is this guy going to turn into a stalker or something? ‘Cause he showed up at my house yesterday to yell at me, and I am not down with that.”

“No.” Deaton frowned. “It will be deeply distressing for Derek to be denied by his mate, whether mates are real or not. Even if they’re not, or they are real and he’s just wrong about you, he’ll probably convince himself that he’ll always be alone since you don’t want him. There won’t be any werewolf imperative towards stalking though.”

“Jeeeezus.” Stiles leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I haven’t had to explain my sexuality this much since freshman year. I don’t want the guy to be doomed to a life alone, but seriously man.” 

Deaton grimaced. “He’s probably not going to get the sexuality barrier thing very well.”

The three Delgados all stared at Deaton until he coughed up some answers. 

“Most born wolves are closer to the center of the Kinsey scale. They were mostly raised away from civilization, you know, and wolves don’t need to reproduce sexually so there was never the same sort of sexuality prohibition in the wolf community that there is in the human one. It’s probably not a biological difference so much as a cultural one.”

“So do you have any recommendations?” Lydia asked. “We’re in kind of a weird situation with them, and it’ll be unpleasant to deal with.” She held the cat out until Scott came over to take it from her. 

“My best advice is to give limited access. Go on a few dates with him and see if the increased time lessens his resolve that you are his mate.”

“You know, with stalkers they say to starve them. No access and no reactions.” Stiles was feeling petulant and defeated. 

“Do you feel unsafe?” Scott asked, looking up from shining a light into a kitten’s eyes. 

“I don’t know.” Stiles sighed. “I guess not? I mean, the worst he did yesterday was yell at me to not be a dick.” 

Lydia put her head on his shoulder. “Aw, we do that all the time.”

Stiles laughed. “I know, right?”

“Okay.” Scott said. “They’ll be back in New York in a few hours. I’ll text Laura and we’ll set something up between us tonight. I’m sure they had their own version of this talk. It’ll help me to be able to say that you’re going to . . . I don’t know? Go on five dates and exchange phone numbers?”

“Let’s say he can text me and I will allow three hang-outs in a public place. With absolutely no non-consensual touching.”

“Of course not! I’m not going to sell you for a couple of goats!” Scott rolled his eyes with a fluency and skill that meant he’d been hanging out with Liam more than usual lately.

“What about the stump of an old oak tree?” Stiles asked flatly. 

Lydia pinched his side hard enough that he yelped and she jumped off the counter before he could retaliate. “You may not be a queen Stiles, but you’re certainly a drama queen.”


	3. What We Have Here is a Basic Failure to Communicate

Scott reported back that the Hales had enthusiastically accepted the offer of three friendly dates with no physical stuff. Stiles felt like a dick correcting Scott to “hang-outs” instead of dates - Mason was sitting right there - so he just let it go. He also reported that Derek had been given his number and told that texting was okay. 

Stiles’s phone received no texts from werewolf potential-stalkers. 

He got himself switched over to nights, bid Clovis goodbye with the traditional box of condoms, and started digging out the beds in the backyard. He had done it every summer for as long as he could remember, but his dad never had time to keep them up after he’d left for college, so Stiles always had to start over when he got home. He also discovered that Josie had blocked him on Facebook, which was bullshit because he hadn’t so much as liked a link of hers since spring break.

Eight days after Lydia called him a drama queen he finally got a text.

~~~  
Today 11:21

_This is Derek. I’m back in town._

~~~

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that. Congratulations? No, he was trying not to be a dick. He dithered like a dork and finally texted Lydia, who got back to him immediately. Lydia didn’t believe in emojis, but he had a feeling that if she had there would be lots of huffy and exasperated yellow faces next to her reply. He took her advice.

~~~  
Today 12:18

**Cool. How was the car trip?**

_It was fine._

~~~

Great, man. Excellent communication skills. Stiles pulled everything out of his closet and put it on his bed. He grabbed a bunch of broken down boxes from the garage, taped them up again, and started sorting his possessions for donation.

~~~  
Today 1:32

_Did Scott give you the addresses of the apartments where we’re staying until the house is ready?_

**Yeah. That building over near the end of the Morgan Street, right?**

_Yes._

~~~

Stiles put a loud playlist on his phone, something that Josie had made him right after they started dating, put his earbuds in, and vacuumed the first floor.

~~~  
Today 2:18

_We have all four of the apartments on the fourth floor._

**Are you guys unpacked yet?**

_Not yet. I think we’re going to go to Ikea tomorrow. Isaac has a truck._

~~~

Stiles was on his hands and knees scrubbing the tiles in the first floor bathroom when his dad cleared his throat from the doorway.

“Jesu Christi, Dad!” Stiles jerked around and sat on his butt on the glistening tiles.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but what’s with the cleaning?”

Stiles rolled his eyes as he stripped off the rubber gloves, pulled the earbuds out of his phone, and showed Tom the scintillating conversation contained therein. 

“So he’s not much of a texter, I guess.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to, like, encourage him, but at the same time I don’t want to be rude.”

Tom got a wrinkle between his brows. “I’ve heard a lot of girls give that as the exact explanation for why they continued to respond to a stalker or an ex.”

“It’s not like that. Laura doesn’t want to tangle with us and if I really get fed up with him I’ll just have Scott tell her to make him knock it off. Even if it hurts his fluffy werewolf feelings.”

Tom leaned on the doorway, frowning down at Stiles. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure, of course.”

“You’re not going to like it,” Tom warned. 

“I’m sure I’ll get over that. 

“I want you to keep me in the loop on this one.” 

“We always keep you in the loop on the supernatural stuff.”

“No, I mean really in the loop. One of the dangers of these kind of situations is that it’s hard to get perspective when you’re so close to it. When they go wrong it can happen quickly and it takes people by surprise. That means no minimizing your feelings because you don’t want me to worry. It means being much more open with me than you normally are.”

“Ugh. Feelings talk.”

“I’m serious, Stiles. I’ll allow this for the time being, but I want your word that you will keep me fully informed. Or I can go to Scott and tell him that your judgement is compromised from the breakup and I don’t want this guy to have any contact with you.”

“Come on, Dad!” 

“That’s the deal, kid.”

“Okay, fine. I promise I will talk to you about all the feelings inspired by my werewolf paramour.”

The phone buzzed in Tom’s hand and he checked the screen automatically. An amused expression darted across his face and he held the phone back out to Stiles who took it, warily. “It’s for you.”

~~~  
Today 3:11

_Can I see you tonight?_

~~~

Stiles sighed.

~~~  
Today 3:11

_Can I see you tonight?_

**I work from 9-6 every night/morning.**

_Oh.  
Can I see you right now then?_

**I’m filthy.  
Is this one of our hang-outs?**

_Sure. If you want._  
_We could meet at the diner. I could buy you dinner.  
Or lunch for you, I guess._

**Okay.  
The diner at 7.**

_Great, thank you.  
I’ll see you then._

~~~

There would be plenty of people around, and he had somewhere he absolutely had to be after so there was a definite exit strategy. He passed his dad (who’d just been leaning on the doorway staring at him like a freak while the conversation played out) the phone and let him read it.

“Looks good. You know, Jordan’s working tonight. Maybe he’ll want to get take out for dinner.”

“Dad.” Stiles warned, but it was fairly half-hearted.

“Come on. Go take a shower so you smell less like bleach and then come and watch the baseball with me. You work much more and you won’t be able to stay up for your shift.”

“Yes, Father.”

\-----

Derek was already there, sitting on the bench outside when Stiles pulled up in the Jeep at a quarter to seven. He stood immediately to greet Stiles and extended a hand, like he was going to put it on Stiles’s back to guide him, but then he yanked the hand back at the last second. 

“I, um, thanks for meeting me. I’m sorry about the other day, just showing up. I should have asked Laura to get your number from Scott.”

“Thank you.” Be gracious, Stiles. Gracious! “So do you remember this place from when you were growing up here?”

“Yeah. It’s one of the first places we went when we came back to scout around.”

They climbed up the three steps to the stoop and pushed through the doors together. “The Diner” was a Beacon Hills institution. Stiles himself had never served time there, always able to find summer work at the Sheriff’s Department, but most of the kids at BHHS cycled through as wait staff or dishwashers at some point. 

It was deceptively huge inside, built in the remains of some sort of WWII bunker with a roof made from corrugated and arched metal; there was a long counter to the left as you came in and three rows of tables starting on the right, and that was before you even got to the booths butting up against the windows. The sign out front just said, “Diner” so that was what everyone called it.

Stiles let Derek lead the way to a booth towards the back of the place. At seven on a Tuesday they were fairly busy, but the dining room wasn’t packed. Stiles saw Derek automatically take the side of the booth that would allow him to face the door and most of the other people present. Werewolves.

Stiles flipped through a menu even though he knew what he wanted because Derek appeared to be suffering some sort of word shortage. 

Their waitress brought them some water glasses and Stiles saw that it was Clio, who had been in Liam, Hayden, and Mason’s year at BHHS. They made some vague small talk before they ordered and she went off to get their food started.

“So the drive was good?” Stiles finally tried, almost at his wit’s end.

“It was okay. Erica knows all the words to the extended version of the _Into the Woods_ soundtrack.

Stiles smiled automatically without thinking. “My girlfriend loves that movie!” He paused and winced when his brain heard his own words. “I mean, my ex-girlfriend. Sorry.”

Derek shrugged uncomfortably.

“So what was it like, living in New York as a werewolf?”

“Um, weird.” Derek seemed pleased to have something non-personal to talk about and explained the complicated informal structure of pack hierarchy in a big city for several minutes.

When the food came he took a look at Stiles’s dinner, deceptively titled, “Diner Burrito” and sneered at it. “What the hell is that?”

“This, my friend,” Stiles grinned at him and stabbed the burrito with his fork, “is shredded chicken, tomato, lettuce, onion, potato, refried beans, and cheese, wrapped in a flour tortilla and smothered in gravy. It is the finest meal on God’s green planet.”

“It looks disgusting. How can you eat that?”

“What it lacks in aesthetics it makes up in flavor. And to answer your second question, never more than once a month and never in my father’s presence.”

Derek had both a burger and a gigantic salad with more shredded chicken, so they both ignored each other’s meals and ate silently for a few minutes. 

“What job do you have that you work third shift for?” 

“I’m a 911 dispatcher at the Sheriff’s Department.”

“Oh, okay.” Derek looked genuinely surprised. 

“You know my dad’s the sheriff, right?”

“Yes.” Derek now looked nervous and guilty.

“This will be my sixth summer doing the third shift dispatching. My friend Clovis does it during the year but she’s semi-retired and takes the summers off.”

“Did you just finish college or do you have one more year?”

“I have one more year. Your bitten wolves have been out for a while, right?”

“Yeah, I think they’re a year or two older than most of your pack. Where do you go to school?”

“Penn State.” 

“Penn State? In Pennsylvania?” Derek looked upset and for a second Stiles was confused. Until he remembered that Derek probably thought they’d be dating by the end of summer and that long distance for the last year would suck.

“Yep.”

Derek visibly shook it off and made an effort to keep the conversation going. Stiles could _see_ him making an effort. 

“And what are you studying?”

Stiles swallowed down his big bite of potato and gravy. “Accounting and Criminology.” 

“You don’t seem much like the accounting type.” Derek frowned and Stiles felt an odd rush of pleasure that he knew that already.

“I’m really not, but I want to get my CFE, not my CPA. I’ll be a Certified Fraud Examiner and get into the FBI, where I’ll take down white collar criminals with my badge and gun and the power of spreadsheets.”

Derek stared at him for a moment, clearly hearing the running around the country inherent in that career path, before deciding on, “I guess it’s just not often you meet a twenty-one year old with a passion for forensic accounting.”

“I’m twenty-three, and it’s actually one of those things that’s incredibly dry and incredibly interesting at the same time. It’s also completely vital work, and it’s full of puzzles, which of course, I love.”

“Right.”

Derek looked so downcast that Stiles genuinely felt a little bad for him. He clearly hated talking about himself, so Stiles asked about some of the pack members. 

Isaac had worked at a large cemetery in New York and was looking for something in landscaping now that they’d moved. Erica and Jackson had both been accepted to law school programs in the Bay Area, so they’d get an apartment down there in the fall and come back when they could for weekends and holidays. Eventually they’d work with Peter and Laura. 

It turned out that Vernon hated the name Vernon and actually went by Boyd (Stiles felt a brief kinship with the man) and had a job teaching second grade for the next school year. Cora had skipped college and worked at a couple of different gyms in New York, but was planning to open her own now that they’d moved. She did a lot of kickboxing and self-defense classes. Stiles laughed at that and Derek gave him a funny look, but he didn’t explain. 

Derek was really different when he talked about his pack. The guarded expression left his face, and he got a softness about himself when he talked about his sister competing in kickboxing competitions in New York, or about the day Boyd had him come in during his student teaching to do chemistry experiments with his kids. 

He wound down a story about Erica beating the hell out of someone who’d tried to drug her in a bar (she’d been able to smell the chemicals in her drink) when he looked at Stiles with a sharpened gaze. 

“You’re really good at that.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow and felt his mouth slant into a smile. “I want to go into law enforcement, remember? Interrogation is one of the many skills in my toolbox.”

“I don’t usually talk so much. I guess you put me at ease.” 

Weirdly, Stiles felt himself blushing at that. Before, even when they’d been talking, part of Derek’s attention had been on the story, part on Stiles, and part on his surroundings. Stiles bet that Derek could have told him how many people were in the diner and how many were guests and how many were waitstaff. Now he felt the full force of Derek’s attention and it was strangely intense. 

Stiles cleared his throat but couldn’t think of anything to say. He broke eye contact and his gaze jumped to the big red vintage clock behind the counter. 

“Oh, jeez, I should get going. Hey, Clio!” He waved her down and she headed over to their table. “Can you make me up a large coffee to go? And bring us our checks?”

“No problem, Stiles.” She smiled at him and headed back to the counter. 

Stiles lifted his hips off the bench seat so he could work his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“Hey, I got it.” Derek said. 

Stiles frowned at him. 

“I asked you, so I’ve got it.”

Stiles subsided, nervously. “Are you sure?”

“Stiles, I asked you out, and it can’t be more than thirty dollars anyway.”

“You have to give Clio a good tip. She’s friends with Hayden.” It felt . . . weird letting some guy who wasn’t pack or his dad buy him dinner. He had male friends at Penn State, but he wasn’t close enough with any of them to do the “you get this time, I’ll get next” thing that he did with Scott or Jordan. And anyway, the only person at school he went out with regularly was Josie. 

“Sure.”

They got themselves sorted and headed back out to the parking lot. The Jeep was in the last row, by the trees, and before he realized what was happening, Derek had walked him to his car. 

“Oh, I uh. Thanks for dinner, anyway.” Stiles turned around to unlock the Jeep.

“Thank you for agreeing to come out with me.” Derek’s voice came from really close behind him. 

Stiles turned and saw the strange way the parking lot lights were reflecting off Derek’s eyes and hair. He felt disoriented and dazzled, and blamed that for the abrupt way the next question popped out. 

“Do you usually date guys?”

“Yes. Exclusively, for about ten years now.”

“I’ve never gone out with a guy before. I’m straight.”

“Are you sure?” Derek was standing much closer to Stiles than any guy who wasn’t pack would stand. Stiles’s skin prickled with his proximity; Derek was only an inch or two taller than he was, but he was much, much broader, and a thrill of fear shot through his spine without his permission. 

“I - I have to go. I don’t want to be late.”

Derek stepped back. “I’ll talk to you soon, then.” 

“Um, okay.” He felt behind himself for the door handle and got it open. He more or less fell upward into the seat and got the motor running. 

When he was pulling out of the parking lot he looked into the mirror and saw Derek standing in between the rows of cars, watching the Jeep’s taillights.


	4. What Stiles Thinks About When He Jerks Off is No One's Business But His Own

The next morning after his shift Stiles was tired from all of the cleaning and stress the day before, followed by a shockingly boring night at dispatch. He couldn’t settle though, even with the blackout curtains drawn and a box fan on for white noise. 

He decided to try jerking off, which hadn’t been much of a success for the last couple of months; it was too easy to get drawn into fantasies of being with Josie and that crashed his libido faster than picturing Coach Finstock in a speedo, which Scott had confessed to doing when he was still trying to get control of his wolf, back in the naked Allison days.

The problem was that Josie was so much more than just beautiful and smart and sarcastic, she was also kind of kinky and way more sexually confident than the couple of girls Stiles had fumbled around with before he and Josie met. She lit him up like a pinball machine when they went to bed together, and trying to get the fantasies going without her just made it more clear that she wasn’t there. 

He got himself settled and pulled up Tumblr on his phone to find some images. Josie was tall and lean, a brunette with small breasts and a great ass, so he tried looking for some busty blondes to get something started. He’d loved going down on her, and she was the first girl who would let him do it, so he tried imagining that he was between the legs of that blonde girl with the smoky eyes. Her hand twisting in his hair, knees bruising on the ground, not allowed to touch himself, he just had to keep it up until she said it was enough. 

He couldn’t even get all the way hard. He dropped his phone and closed his eyes.

Okay, so, he’s on his back, and this other girl is going to ride him. She tied his wrists together above his head, and then fastened him to the headboard. Hands squeezing into his pecs, tight and wet as she sank down around his dick - he reached over and got a few pumps of lube - okay, that’s going a little better . . . Long blonde hair coming down to tickle his chest as she thrust back against him . . .

_Are you sure?_

“Shit!” Stiles cursed aloud and yanked his hand out of his boxers. For no apparent reason his brain decided to drop Derek Hale sneaking up behind him in the parking lot into the middle of his private time. All the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, just like when Derek had stood so close to him the night before, and there was an ache deep in his belly. 

This was one of the things he hated about ADHD brain. Most of the symptoms had dissipated with age, just as his pediatrician had said they would, but he still occasionally had something like this happen, where he’d just be minding his own business and suddenly his brain would leap in with something he didn’t want to think about and then prove impossible to redirect. 

He stripped the t-shirt off over his head and wiped his lube-wet hands, then threw it across the room and into the hamper. He grumbled to himself as he rolled over on his side, plugged his phone into the charger, and closed his eyes. The hair at the back of his neck kept prickling, and he scrubbed at it with his fingernails, trying to get it to go back down. 

He counted backwards from 700 by 7s and finally fell asleep somewhere in the low 500s, balls aching and mind unsettled.


	5. Stiles Stilinski Hates Scott Delgado

Stiles didn’t hear from Derek for three days after their diner date and it made him crazy. He kept checking his phone - like a freak, his inner voice informed him - and wondering what was going on. He told himself several times a day that the Hales were undoubtably setting up the apartments and working on their plans for the new house with the contractors. 

He also kept looking over his shoulder whenever he was out, to the point that it was starting to get on the nerves of some of the other pack members. He and Scott attempted to have a drink on Stiles’s night off, and Scott kept rolling his eyes every time Stiles jerked a glance behind himself. 

“I just feel like I have the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head, and this guy is going to sweep in at any moment and carry me off with his chest muscles.” 

“So, you basically think you’re in _Rocky Horror Picture Show_.” It was never helpful when Scott was sarcastic. Stiles regretted being his sarcasm mentor. 

“This whole situation is very stressful to me.” Stiles complained. “It’s weird that he’s from another pack, too. Like, should we tell the Hales about our history as a pack?”

“Lydia and I were wondering about that.” 

“I mean, I get the feeling we know way more about them than they do about us.” 

“Lydia is thorough, and some of the computer geeks at Stanford worship her as a goddess.”

“Don’t tell me any more, I need plausible deniability for my security clearance after I get into the FBI.”

“It’s so weird to me that you’re the one who’s like, ‘no, I can’t do anything illegal’ now.” Scott held up his hands dramatically. 

“It’s so weird to me that you’re a dick.” Stiles snarked back.

Of course, it was just then that a heavy hand descended on his shoulder from behind. Stiles yelped and started to slide off the stool, but the hand’s partner grabbed him and helped him keep his balance. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Of course it was Derek. 

Stiles glared at Scott, who looked back at him with exaggerated innocence. 

Scott turned to Derek and asked, with only slight self-importance, “How’re things at the apartment building coming?”

“Good. We’ve got a bunch of cheap furniture set up for the time being while the good stuff is waiting to go into the house. It’s the first time we’ve all lived so close together for long term, so it should be interesting.”

“Sounds good.” Scott nodded politely. 

“Well, I’m here with some of the rest of the pack, just wanted to say hi and let you guys know we were here.” Derek took the hand off Stiles’s shoulder and jerked a thumb to the corner of the room, where he saw Erica, Boyd, and Cora settling around the booth in the corner. All three of them were shooting little sideways glances towards the bar. 

“Yeah, sure thing, man.” Scott did some sort of bro-slap handshake thing that Stiles had never been able to do. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Stiles.” Derek clapped him on the back and smiled, then turned to join his pack. 

Stiles made a “see what I mean?” gesture at Scott, but Scott just rolled his eyes. Sarcastically, goddammit. Then he smiled and sort of laughed, while darting a look over Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles turned to look and saw Derek back at his table, engaged with Erica and Cora. 

“What? What are they saying?”

“Nothing, I just think they’re not used to there being other wolves around.”

“What’d they say?”

“Stiles,” said Scott patiently, “you wouldn’t want me to tell them what you said before they came in.” 

“They could have heard anyway! They’re -” Scott reached across with both hands and put one on the back of his head and one over Stiles’s mouth.

“I think it’s time to take you home.” 

Stiles glared at Scott and licked his hand. Scott jerked it away, then reached over and rubbed the wet hand in Stiles’s hair. Matilda, the bartender, gave them both the side-eye, as she knew how disruptive they could be. Stiles slid off his stool and stalked out. 

When they reached the parking lot Stiles threw Scott the jeep keys - it was a bad toss and Scott had to use his werewolf reflexes to catch them - and headed to the passenger side. Scott got in the driver’s seat, then reached over to unlock the door for him. 

Scott started up the jeep, but waited until he turned out of the parking lot to sigh heavily and start talking again. “Are you sure there couldn’t be anything between the two of you? He seems like he’s trying.”

“I’m straight, Scottie.” Stiles was leaned way over in his seat, his cheek smushed against the chilly window. He could feel the cold of the glass resonating in his cheekbone. 

“I mean, I kinda thought in high school you might be bi.”

“What? Really? Nah, man, you know I spent high school worshipping at the alter of Lydia the Great. I use ‘great’ in the Russian sense, by the way, where it’s synonymous with ‘terrible.’”

“I always kinda thought you had a thing for Danny.” Scott flicked his turn signal and headed down Stiles’s quiet, dark street.

“Seriously? No, I mean, he was hot and nice, but . . .”

“What about that thing with the virgin sacrifices? Where he jokingly offered to sleep with you and you were all in?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get my brain stabbed out,” said Stiles, reasonably.

“Are you sure you weren’t _so_ into Lydia because you were trying _not to be_ into Danny?” Scott pulled into Stiles's driveway and shut the car off.

“Scott,” Stiles said helplessly. 

“Just, man. If you are bi, or heteroflexible or whatever, you know we’ll all still love you, right?”

“I don’t know what to do with the things you’re saying.”

“Look, Derek _believes_ in the mates thing.”

“I know!” Stiles flailled his way out of the car and Scott jumped out, too. “That’s why we’re in this whole mess!”

“But have you thought about what that means?” Scott unlocked the front door and let Stiles precede him into the house. 

“Vis-à-vis my imminent familiarity with courthouse procedures for taking out restraining orders?” 

“First off, he only showed up here once, right? Has he been harassing you in person, by phone, or by text?” 

“No.” Stiles grumped, filling a glass of water at the kitchen sink. 

“Good. But my point, Stiles, is that he _believes_ you were meant for him. He _believes_ you’re _perfect_.”

“Oh.” Stiles sat the glass on the counter in front of himself, glad he wasn’t looking at Scott at that particular moment. 

“Yeah. I’m not saying it’s everything, okay? And there is no situation under which I want you to do something you don’t want to do, but that would be a big thing, you know, to be loved like that. I just wanted to make sure you considered it.”

Scott set Stiles’s keys on the counter next to his hand, squeezed his shoulder, and left. Stiles heard the front door close a minute later. 

\-----

It was only eleven - way too early for Stiles to go to bed, even if he didn’t need to make an effort to stay up until at least six to preserve his body clock, but he hauled his bones upstairs anyway and stripped down to boxers and long sleeve t-shirt and crawled into bed, clutching his phone to his chest. 

Stiles hadn’t thought of the whole situation in that light before, and damn Scott for knowing how it would affect him to have it pointed out. 

Stiles talked a good game, man, but it wasn’t like he was unaware that he craved approval and approbation. When he squinted back at himself in high school, which honestly was like trying to look directly at the sun it was so painful, he knew just how much of that persona was him crying out for someone to notice him and think he was something special. 

After things had gone to supernatural hell in a mountain ash hand-basket it had gotten worse for a while. He’d felt abandoned by Scott and aside from being scared all the time, as he and Scott and Lydia and Allison had struggled to keep things together and stay alive, he’d been wretchedly, painfully conscious of his humanity and . . . ordinariness. 

And then the Nogitsune had happened, and he’d never been so desperately terrified in all his life. When the dust settled, when Aidan and Allison were dead and he was barely alive, he’d clung to the sense of reality that school and home had provided. He and Scott could barely look at each other for months, and had only really found their way back together halfway through senior year, when Theo’s perfidy had been revealed and they’d forced themselves to make up. 

In the meantime, Stiles, to the surprise of everyone, had become a model student. He’d graduated only three hundredths of a point below Lydia’s GPA, and the only reason she’d beaten him was that she’d taken several college courses the summer after junior year to distract herself from the recent losses. The Stilinski house hadn't been so clean since before Stiles's mom had gotten sick, and he'd even thoroughly landscaped the backyard. 

Of course, that was all years ago now, but he doubted he’d ever really lose that desire to please and belong completely to something or someone. He never could have left the pack straight out of high school. If the older cohort hadn’t decided to wait for the kids to graduate, he’d have ended up in the Bay Area with Scott, Lydia, and Kira, too, he was certain of that, and to the devil with Penn State’s full ride. 

And wasn’t that why he was the way he was in bed? Stiles hadn’t done extensive introspection as far as his personal tastes were concerned, but he knew enough to know that nothing got him off harder than pleasing his partner and being praised - and maybe gently humiliated for his eagerness. After all, wasn’t that why things with Josie had been so good? She told him exactly what to do and how to do it and he loved that feeling. 

Stiles was just coming to the conclusion that he was too drunk for this train of thought when his phone vibrated in his hands. Of course it was Derek.

~~~  
Today 11:41

_We didn’t mean to chase you and Scott out of the bar tonight - sorry about that._

**it’s okay.**

_Is it weird to try to go to a bar on your night off when you work 3rd shift?_

**yeah totally  
** i’m trying not to fall aslepp right now  
it’s like drinking your breakfast, and i’m too young to do that 

_Are you okay? You seemed a little stressed tonight._

**i dunno man  
the problem with having friends like brothers is that they know you really well you know?**

_Yeah, Boyd can be like that._  
And Laura and Cora do their sister thing.  
And Erica’s never heard of personal boundaries, I swear.  
Or Jackson or Peter, now that I think about it. 

**i’m all twisted up  
** and drunk  
i’m also waaaaay drunker than my pay grade 

_It feels weird asking if I can do anything._

**i’d ask you to punch scott in his wolfy face but that probably wouldn’t be very diplomatic, huh?**

_Sorry, man, Laura would kill me._

**he’d just heal anyway**  


~~~

There was a long pause in the conversation, but Stiles finally sent one more message. 

~~~

**i shouldn’t but i’m going to take a nap**

_Okay. Sweet Dreams._  


~~~

Stiles lay awake for a long time, thinking about how, even if he did give Derek a chance and something happened between them, it wouldn’t matter when Derek realized that soulmates weren’t real after all.


End file.
